With tender love and gentle care, Friends gathered round her bed, And for her sake each footfall hushed The echoes of its tread. They knew the restlessness of death Through every nerve did creep, And carefully they tried to lull The dying Queen to sleep. In vain she felt Death’s icy hand Her failing heart-strings shake; And, rousing up, she firmly said, “I’d meet my God awake.” Awake, I’ve met the battle’s shock, And born the cares of state; Nor shall I take your lethean cup, And slumber at death’s gate. Did I not watch with eyes alert, The path where foes did tend; And shall I veil my eyes with sleep, To meet my God and friend? Nay, rather from my weary lids, This heavy slumber shake, That I may pass the mystic vale, And meet my God awake. THE JEWISH GRANDFATHER’S STORY. Come, gather around me, children, And a story I will tell. How we builded the beautiful temple— The temple we love so well. I must date my story backward To a distant age and land, When God did break our fathers’ chains By his mighty outstretched hand Our fathers were strangers and captives, Where the ancient Nile doth flow; Smitten by cruel taskmasters, And burdened by toil and woe. As a shepherd, to pastures green Doth lead with care his sheep, So God divided the great Red Sea, And led them through the deep. You’ve seen me plant a tender vine, And guard it with patient care, Till its roots struck in the mellow earth, And it drank the light and air. So God did plant our chosen race, As a vine in this fair land; And we grew and spread a fruitful tree, The planting of his right hand. The time would fail strove I to tell, All the story of our race— Of our grand old leader, Moses, And Joshua in his place, Of all our rulers and judges, From Joshua unto Saul, Over whose doomed and guilty head Fell ruin and death’s dark pall.